


I wasn't expecting you

by dreamsheartstory



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, F/F, Fluff, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-21
Updated: 2015-12-21
Packaged: 2018-05-08 06:39:38
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,925
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5487389
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dreamsheartstory/pseuds/dreamsheartstory
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Lexa's blind date stands her up; Clarke's friend bails on their plans.</p><p>OR</p><p>A stranger gives Lexa flowers and she ends up taking her home.</p>
            </blockquote>





	I wasn't expecting you

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Kuramachakra](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kuramachakra/gifts).



> It's that time of year again where we gift each other stories because that's what happens on tumblr. So [@lost-little-lion-girl,](http://lost-little-lion-girl.tumblr.com/) here's some fluffy smut for you since everything I make you beta is angsty. (Except now you can totally hold it over my head that I can write things that don't rip your heart out). You're an amazing friend and a wonderful beta, thank you for everything!

The front door of the bar swings open with the creak of old wood and Lexa looks up from her half empty pint to see if her not so blind blind-date has shown up. 

It’s another couple, arms wrapped around each other, trying to fit through the door side by side.

She sighs, pursing her lips, this was a terrible idea. It's now been twenty minutes since her date was supposed to start and she's certain she's been stood up. This is the last time she lets Anya set her up with a friend of a friend that she hasn’t really met. It never ends well and she has much more productive things she could be doing than sitting at a bar nursing a pint.

She doesn't bother to look up when the door opens again instead turning to the barkeep in an attempt to flag him down for another pint. He’s busy chatting to a redhead at the other end of the bar, but he holds up his hand like he’ll be down in a moment. Twirling the pint glass between her fingers she watches as the amber liquid sloshes around the sides, the foam leaving spiderweb fingerprints on the inside of the glass. Someone slides into the barstool next to her and she lets them because it's pointless trying to save the seat any longer.

A bouquet of yellow tulips is placed in front of her and Lexa frowns. 

“You look like you need some cheering up,” the woman’s voice is deep and soft.

Lexa looks up to see a radiant red lipsticked smile framed by a bush of wavy blonde hair peeking out from underneath a black beanie and haloing the woman’s face which is even more attractive than her voice. She’s stunning and Lexa finds herself staring into eyes like sapphires unable to look away. 

The woman nudges the bouquet closer and smiles again. That smile could melt ice in winter. It breaks across the blonde’s face, chasing at the shadows of sadness in the corners of her eyes, giving her a hopeful melancholic feeling. All night Lexa had been thinking of nothing but curling up by her fireplace and finishing a book, but now it’s the furthest thing from her mind. Lexa realizes she’s been staring too long and turns back to her drink, fighting down the flush she can feel creeping up her cheeks. Reaching out she brushes her fingertips along one of the flowers.

When the barkeep finally pries himself away from the girl at the end of the bar she signals him for two pints. 

“You look like you could use a drink.” Lexa hands the woman one of the beers and turns back to her own.

“Thanks,” the word is like soft velvet inside her skull and it sends a shiver down Lexa’s spine. 

Lexa spares another glance at the blonde who has settled into the stool leaning over her pint clearly expecting nothing from further the exchange. For the first time all evening she feels a smile tug at the corner of her mouth. Usually this would be where one of them tries to force a conversation, two strangers exchanging pleasantries beyond simple acts of kindness because somehow those acts demanded further interaction when really they didn’t. It’s so unexpected that she almost wants to break the silence between them. She doesn’t.

The bar is starting to fill up, patrons trickling in, it's getting louder and people are starting to crowd the bar. The blonde shoots an apologetic glance at Lexa as a large man bumps into her she nearly bumps into Lexa in turn before scooting her stool a little closer to Lexa and further away from the oblivious gesticulating man on her other side. Underneath the scent of spilled beer Lexa picks up a hint of lavender and realizes it's the blonde next to her. 

They’re sitting close enough that they keep bumping elbows. The blonde is left-handed and Lexa is right-handed and they both seem to be stubbornly waiting for the other to switch to their non-dominant hand. It’s crossing that line between comical and infuriating because they keep almost smiling at each other each time it happens.

“I'm Lexa.”

“Clarke,” she holds out her hand. Her handshake is firm and Lexa likes the feeling of Clarke’s hand in her own. 

She tips her head toward the tulips still sitting on the bar in front of her, “Who were the flowers for?”

“A friend of mine, we were supposed to be celebrating her promotion but, uh, she stood me up.” Clarke takes a large sip of her beer to hide a frown. “What about you? Meeting someone?”

“Like you, stood up. Well, almost like you, blind dates are terrible affairs.”

Clarke laughs and it's a low raspy sound that scraps down Lexa’s spine twisting things low in between her thighs. “I'm not laughing at you, I swear. It’s just I’ve honestly never been on a blind date that went well.”

Lexa purses her lips but she's trying not to laugh because Clarke is pretty and actually seems like someone whose company she might enjoy. It’s just that the week has been long and she’s only out tonight to keep her foster sister from going on and on about her lack of a love life which she is prone to do.

“I’m sorry, I’ll leave you alone.”

Lexa realizes she’s still glaring and probably looks closed off. It’s how she normally is. It isn’t that she doesn’t smile, or doesn’t like talking to people, she just doesn’t see the point in wasting needless energy in someone she doesn’t know when she can be polite without pretending emotions she isn’t feeling. Except she doesn’t want Clarke to leave her alone.

“No!” Lexa glances down at the bar then back up at Clarke who is watching her intently. “If you want to leave that’s fine, but if you want to stay and talk I wouldn’t mind the company.” Lexa smiles and she can feel it crinkle her nose.

Clarke laughs and her head drops down as a smile breaks out on her face and Lexa knows she won’t be getting to her book tonight but she doesn’t care about that anymore. Clarke turns to her, pint cradled between her hands and there’s a light in her eyes.

“So you’ve deemed me acceptable company for the evening then?”

“Well, that’s yet to be seen, but I’m willing to give you a chance.” She gives Clarke a small smile only half hidden by a sip of her beer and turns on the stool so she’s mirroring Clarke. Their knees bump. She looks down acutely aware of the warmth of where their knees are pressed together and catches Clarke’s eye after she does the same. Neither of them move. 

The night continues on and they talk long enough to order a second and third round of pints, slowly moving closer and closer as the bar gets more crowded and louder. It isn’t until the barkeep leans over to inform them it’s last call that they realize just how much time has passed. Lexa is increasingly glad she stayed out, but disappointed their night is coming to an end. Clarke makes her laugh like she hasn’t in a long time. 

She tries to remind herself it’s probably the several pints she’s had and it’s probably nothing more than a pretty face and a dark bar that makes her want more, but Clarke slips off her barstool and stumbles into Lexa making her forget.

Lexa reaches out and catches Clarke to keep her upright and in doing so ends up with Clarke between her knees and so much closer than she’s been all night. She can smell a hint of lavender again and she’s certain it’s Clarke that smells so sweet. Neither of them move for a moment, frozen in the spot as their thudding hearts try to catch up. Lexa leans in before she can think and kisses Clarke soundly, a press of lips, a brush of her tongue, a scrape of teeth. Just as she feels Clarke respond Lexa pulls back.

“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have. I-”

“Lexa.”

“I had no right to-”

Clarke takes her face in her hands and pulls her in for another kiss, effectively cutting off her apology and embarrassed rambling. She feels Clarke’s hand tangle in her hair as another slides down to rest on her waist. It’s hot and frenzied and more than Lexa is normally comfortable with at a crowded bar. She blames the four pints but knows that even before things got this far this is what she wanted because Clarke is attractive and interesting. Clarke pulls back and a whine escapes Lexa’s throat.

“Take me home?” Clarke asks. Her eyes are dark and heavy lidded as her gaze flicks from Lexa’s lips to her eyes again. She’s biting her lip and Lexa wishes it was her lip instead.

Lexa nods not quite able to form words because her wanting is so intense, and slides off the bar stool and presses up against Clarke. Her hand runs down Clarke’s arm before she takes her hand and pulls her away, leading them through the thinning crowd and out into the cool night air. She stops on the edge of the sidewalk and attempts to hail a taxi before it’s stolen from them by another bar patron slipping out before last call. This is the most impulsive thing she’s done in months and she bites back the uncertainty trying to change her mind.

Clarke wraps her arms around Lexa tightly from behind, her hands pressed firm against her stomach. She can feel the swell of Clarke’s breasts pressed against her back, heat pools between her thighs in response and when a cab finally stops for them she all but pulls Clarke in on top of her after she slides in.

Her address is a hurried rush of air as she tries to think with Clarke’s eyes on her, searching her face for an indication of what they’re doing. Clarke is twisted, facing Lexa, her fingertips brushing the back of Lexa’s wrist. Lexa brushes her thumb along the side of Clarke’s thigh. Each touch makes her heart beat faster.

She’s trying to calm herself down because this is not something she often does. The women she takes to bed are usually vetted by her sister, they’re known unknowns. This woman is a complete stranger, bright eyed and vibrantly alive, and forward - if the hand now creeping up Lexa’s thigh is any indication. She should stop it, but she doesn’t want to. Clarke glances down at her hand, halfway up Lexa’s thigh, drawing small tight circles next to the inseam of her jeans. Each brush brings Clarke’s hand that much closer to the apex of her thighs and it’s all Lexa can do to not writhe in her seat. When Clarke looks back up, her lips are parted, expectant, hopeful.

It’s not that she doesn’t want Clarke’s hand where it’s going, it’s just that they’re in the back of a cab, and she isn’t certain she wants to give the cabbie a show. She flicks her gaze to the driver and finds he’s fixated on the road. Her body betrays her as her legs part slightly. Clarke leans in closer her hand brushing across Lexa’s sex through her jeans.

Clarke nuzzles into her neck lips nipping at the skin above her pulse point and Lexa’s eyes flutter closed, she almost forgets that she needs to make sure this is really what they both want, and maybe stop it from happening in the back of a cab. Lexa places a hand on Clarke’s chest and presses her back slightly, just enough that they can see each other.

“Clarke?”

“What is it?” She pulls away slightly and Lexa tries not to whine as Clarke’s hand pulls away.

“Are you sure you want this?”

“Lexa, I just crawled into a cab with you, I want you.”

Lexa can feel a blush creep up and is thankful for the dark cab, still she doesn’t relent, “Yes but does sober you want me?”

“I gave you flowers didn’t I?” She says with a smirk. When Lexa doesn’t let her press forward for another kiss she continues, “Trust me, Lexa, I’m still sober enough to agree to this.”

Clarke tugs her closer and Lexa lets herself fall against Clarke, pinning her against the cab door. Her knee falls into Clarke’s lap and she’s nearly straddling her thigh. She keeps herself from grinding down, as much as she wants that pressure to relieve the ache building between her legs. Her breathing is labored and her nerves are overwhelmed with want and desire. She doesn’t protest when Clarke tips her head up to steal a kiss. This had never been her intent when she reluctantly readied herself for a blind date after work, but she’s not complaining, not with Clarke’s hands on her ass and her skin warm underneath Lexa’s hands.

They only break apart briefly when the cab stops outside Lexa’s apartment complex, stumbling out of the cab and into the building. She pulls Clarke up the stairwell much to her protestations:  _ but we could kiss in the elevator _ . Clarke stops complaining when Lexa shoves her up against the inside of her apartment door, her words morphing into a moan that Lexa swallows down like water.

Lexa could live on that sound. It’s soft and needy and caresses her in places she didn’t know were possible to touch.

Hands on Lexa’s shoulders Clarke pushes her jacket down her arms and let's it fall to the floor. Lexa feels her arch off the door as her own quickly follows suit. She slips her knee between Clarke’s thighs pulling their hips flush together. Her hands are underneath the edge of Clarke’s shirt and trails kisses up her neck.

Her mind is a heated frenzied haze and every touch is like fire on her skin. She needs this and she never wants it to end. They haven’t even left the entryway and she wonders if they’re even going to make it to her bed because the way Clarke’s hands feel on her make her forget where she is and anything but the sticky heat pooling between her thighs.

She needs to not be standing and she needs Clarke on top of her.

Clarke whimpers as Lexa pulls away and Lexa can feel the tension in her body. Clarke is a wire strung taught. Her hands sneak under the edge of Lexa’s shirt fingers splayed against her sides. She tugs at the material and Lexa pulls it off without a question, crashing back against Clarke before she can miss the contact.

Their kisses are messy, opened mouth, tongue and teeth crashing. Clarke has unhooked Lexa’s bra and she only notices as it falls uselessly forward when she takes a step backwards. She tosses it to the side not worrying where it lands.

Lexa lets out a surprised yelp as Clarke changes the pace, shoving her against the wall. Fuck. She arches her head back as Clarke kisses down Lexa’s neck and her hands cup Lexa’s breasts, testing their weight, pinching her nipples between forefinger and thumb. Lexa moans, arching her back off the wall as Clarke latches her mouth around a nipple. Her tongue swirls around it, teasing, gently taking it between her teeth.

It’s almost too much and she doesn’t remember the last time it was someone else’s hands, someone’s mouth on her. She can already feel the familiar tightening. Lexa slips a hand between them and has the top button of her jeans undone before Clarke catches her hand.

“As hot as that would be that’s my job tonight,” she growls pulling the offending hand to her mouth and slowly drawing Lexa’s fingers into her mouth one by one.

Lexa whimpers but her words are challenging. “Then do something about it.” 

Clarke hooks a finger into a belt loop on Lexa’s pants and tugs it, “Why are we still dressed.”

“No one’s stopping you,” Lexa raises an eyebrow but she stays against the wall. She isn’t quite sure what to expect but it isn’t Clarke pulling off her shirt and slipping out of her shoes and jeans. Before Lexa really has a chance to register the movement Clarke is standing before her in nothing but black lace.

Clarke is pale and soft and curved and stunning and Lexa’s forgotten how to breathe.

“Do you always wear lingerie to celebrate with your friends?”

“I guess you’ll have to become one of my friends to find that one out.” Clarke smirks and her nose crinkles and Lexa decides it’s equal parts sexy and adorable and does nothing to abate the ache between her thighs.

“I listened to you complain all night about cancelled plans,” Lexa stalks forward walking Clarke toward her bedroom. “I think that qualifies me.”

Clarke shoves her against the nearest wall and presses her thigh between Lexa’s legs, “Does it now?”

“Clarke?” Lexa tries to make her name a little more than a breathy exhale. Her hands slide down Clarke’s bare back and over the thin strip of lace before squeezing Clarke’s ass.

Clarke hums a question as Lexa’s mouth descends on her neck and her nails scratch lightly up Clarke’s sides.

“Shut up.” Lexa presses the words against Clarke’s collarbone, her teeth catching on the delicate skin there. She loses herself in the softness of it, kissing the tops of Clarke’s breasts, her tongue swooping down to tease at her nipples. Pulling back quickly she grabs Clarke’s hands, only losing herself for a moment in the dark blue of Clarke’s eyes.

“Bed, now.” The words tumble past Clarke’s lips a command that Lexa is eager to follow.

They crash into Lexa’s bed and Clarke is pulling off Lexa’s pants before she’s even finished falling. Lexa slides back more solidly on the bed finding Clarke took her underwear with her jeans her heartbeat quickens. Clarke’s gaze rakes over her, naked and supine on the bed, waiting to be touched again. That look is heavy and wanting and Lexa fights not to squirm under it. She almost misses Clarke slipping out of the lace that hardly covers her.

Clarke starts at her ankles. Her kisses burn as she works her way slowly up the inside of Lexa’s legs, softly nudging them apart as she moves. At the apex of her thighs she takes a moment, pressing open mouthed kisses to Lexa’s hip bones, and down the soft flesh at the fold between her sex and her leg. Clarke smiles and hums appreciatively as she drags a finger up the length of Lexa’s slit, her finger coming away coated in sticky cum. Lexa shudders at her touch, her eyes fluttering shut.

When she opens them Clarke is hovering over her slowly sliding the finger out of her mouth, her eyes closed in satisfaction. The digit pops out from between her lips and Clarke smirks, “How bad do you want me to fuck you, Lexa?”

“Please, Clarke.” Lexa pulls at Clarke’s hips trying to get her close enough to feel any kind of contact, friction.

“Please what?” Her tone is teasing but she relents, lowering her hips down to match Lexa’s.

“Fuck me, Clarke. I want your mouth on me.”

Lexa cranes her neck and brings Clarke down for a kiss, lips parting eagerly as Clarke’s tongue slips past. Long forgotten is the disappointment of broken plans and lousy blind dates. Their bodies tangle together, flush, feeding off each other’s desire.

A trail of open mouthed kisses, teeth, small red marks that won’t fade by morning but work as reminders that they at least had this, make Lexa writhe underneath Clarke’s touch as she quickly works her way back down between Lexa’s legs.

There’s no preamble, just Clarke’s tongue on her cunt, sliding between her folds, drawing circles around her clit before she’s sucking on it and drawing a series of small mewling moans for Lexa. Clarke digs her fingers into Lexa’s hips, holding her down and pulling her in closer. 

Lexa is lost to the wave of sensation building over her, unable to open her eyes she can’t feel beyond the tightening ache between her legs. Clarke slips two fingers into her and she nearly comes from that alone. Curling her fingers inside Lexa she matches her movements in time with that of her tongue until Lexa is writhing beneath her. Lexa’s muscles go rigid, her breath shortens into desperate moans, and it’s only a few more swipes of Clarke’s tongue before she’s a trembling mess beneath Clarke’s mouth, crying out Clarke’s name.

She feels, more than hears, Clarke laugh and murmur appreciative words against her thighs, punctuated by kisses. 

Lexa cracks open one eye and watches as Clarke moves back up to settle into the crook of Lexa’s arm; her tongue swipes at the cum surrounding her mouth.

“That was hot,” she presses the words into a kiss against Lexa’s lips.

Lexa nods, her head still fuzzy, blissed out from the orgasm. She can’t quite remember how to speak. She trails her fingers down Clarke’s sides, reveling in the feeling of this woman. Tasting herself on Clarke’s tongue is heady and it isn’t long before the movements become more purposeful, less languid. Lexa slips her thigh between Clarke’s legs rolls her onto her back.

It’s still hours yet before they stop, collapsing in a heap of sweaty limbs and contented sighs. Lexa fetches them water when she remembers how to work her legs and Clarke kisses her thank you. The sky outside is turning blue with predawn light as Lexa leans back in a cocoon of pillows and blankets, one arm tossed across her eyes, her body is exhausted but sated and she hopes Clarke feels the same, thinking that maybe it would be impossible not to after the night they shared.

“Clarke?” Lexa asks when she feels the bed shift and Clarke slip out and the suddenly empty bed is an ache she doesn’t want to deal with. “Where are you going?”

“I didn’t want to assume. Most guys aren’t really for the cuddling and sleep overs after a one night stand.” Her voice is even but Lexa can hear the hesitation in it.

“So many misguided presumptions in that one sentence.” Lexa smiles, teeth catching on her bottom lip, and reaches out a hand, her eyes flick over Clarke’s naked silhouette and she forgets to breathe for a moment. “Come back to bed. That is, if you want to stay, but we can talk about everything over breakfast if you do.”

Clarke halts her search for her clothes mixed with Lexa’s on the bedroom floor and slips back under the covers wrapping her arms around Lexa’s middle as she presses up against her back. “Is this okay?” Lexa sighs contentedly and settles in against Clarke’s soft curves. She intertwines their fingers where Clarke’s hand lays against her stomach glad that Clarke decided to stay.

“Yes,” Lexa whispers. “It is.”

Even if it’s only this one night it feels good to be pressed up against someone else, someone who doesn’t just want to use her and leave. Even if she never sees Clarke again after waffles tomorrow morning she won’t regret this.

There’s something though in the way that Clarke presses a kiss to her spine that makes her think being stood up was perhaps the best thing that could have happened.


End file.
